


The Closest Thing To A Friend

by fiveainley_ohmy



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: :D, Crack Treated Seriously, Episode: s01e03 The Great Game, Gen, John Watson is Moriarty, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 16:53:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7395784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiveainley_ohmy/pseuds/fiveainley_ohmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was the last thing Sherlock saw coming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Closest Thing To A Friend

> _You’ve met him. How many ‘friends’ do you imagine he has? I am the closest thing to a friend that Sherlock Holmes is capable of having...an enemy._

It was the moment he'd waited for. Time to unveil the man behind the curtain. Sherlock was finally going to come face to face with the mysterious Moriarty.

Sherlock was glad John...dear John...was out with his boring girlfriend for once. He didn't need to be here for this.

Sherlock wandered into the poolhouse, his hands clasped behind his back, John's gun stuck into the back of his pants. His sharp eyes flitted about the room, but there was no sign of life. Right. Time to come out to play, Mister Moriarty. "Brought you a little getting-to-know-you present," Sherlock announced, holding up the flash drive for hidden eyes to see. Still, no one appeared. Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Oh, that's what it's all been for, hasn't it? Solving your little puzzles, 'watching me dance'...all to distract me from this-"

His attention was stolen by the sound of a door creaking open. _Alright, let's have a look at you-_

Sherlock's heart stopped momentarily.

It was John.

The two men gazed at each other for a moment, Sherlock in horrified disbelief, John in cool indifference.

"Evening," John finally said, breaking the tense silence.

Sherlock was still paralyzed with shock.

"This is a turn up, isn't it, Sherlock?" John continued calmly.

"John-...what the hell-"

"Bet you never saw this coming."

Sherlock swallowed hard. "No. This is a joke...he's using you as a puppet, like he did with the others. Come out! Face me!" he roared to Moriarty, who _must_ be hiding in the shadows, watching...laughing-

"Oh, you idiot," sighed John, rolling his eyes. "Can you not get it through those curls? _I'm_ Moriarty. Moriarty is me. We're one in the same. Seeing the picture, brainiac?"

"No," Sherlock said again, vaguely aware that he was shaking. "You can't be-...I would have seen-"

"That's the trouble, isn't it? You _did_ see. But you failed to observe," John explained. "I'm disappointed, I really am. Ever since I was a little boy, I looked up to you. I was your number one fan! You figured out that I murdered Carl Powers when not even the grownups could see. But you can't see what's right in front of you?" John gestured to his stocky, sweet, unassuming persona. " _BORING!_ " His voice echoed around the room unsettlingly.

"But... _why?_ " Sherlock spluttered. "Why _pretend_ to be my friend?!"

John smiled warmly. That was the most chilling thing - his smile was genuine. "The same reason you came here tonight...my dear. You wanted to meet me. We have what you might call a connection, Sherlock."

"So...this..." Sherlock looked at the flash drive in his hand. "...has nothing to do with it."

John giggled. That same cute little giggle that he'd laughed their first night, when they'd run through the streets of London together - how could it have all been _fake?_ \- the one that Sherlock had found so endearing. "Course not. I'm easily the most powerful man in England - maybe the whole world - and you think I need _you_ to get my hands on the information on that silly little flash drive?"

"Then why call me here?" Sherlock demanded.

"Well, you should understand that better than anyone: I was bored. I admit, it was fun for a while, playing sweet little John Watson, the tragic army doctor, the doting flatmate who worshipped the ground you walked on. But this is where it ends. You've gotten too close. I can't let you advance any further. Now, you're going to forfeit. And if you don't, I'm going to make things very unpleasant for you."

Sherlock quickly pulled out his gun and aimed it at the man. "And what if I just shot you now?"

That smile again. "You're not gonna do that, Sherlock." John began to slowly approach him. "You're not gonna hurt me." He took a hold of the gun.

Sherlock grabbed John's wrist, and glared at him. "And why is that?" he hissed in John's face.

"Because you love me," John stated calmly.

Sherlock was frozen. Then, after a moment, the detective slackened in defeat, and surrendered the gun.

"Good boy."

Sherlock looked at the ground in shame as John backed away. "Bye bye, Sherlock," said the fake friend. "Good work, sleep tight, I'll probably kill you in the morning."

John began to leave. A smirk started to grow on Sherlock's face as he put something together. He began to chuckle as John was just about to walk out the door.

"Sorry. Did I miss the joke?" said John, pausing.

"You're not going to kill me either, Moriarty." Sherlock began to walk toward him. He leaned toward the shorter man and murmured, "Because you love me too."

John snorted. "Good grief. You really are a goldfish. You do realize 'John Watson, the infatuated sidekick' was all an act, right? I was distracting you. Toying with you. Watching you dance."

"Perhaps it was a lie. But your transport betrays you. You see..." Sherlock leaned in to whisper in John's ear: " _I took your pulse_."

John swallowed. Caught.

"Elevated. Pupils, enlarged. You got careless, _my dear_. Sentiment: a chemical defect found on the losing side."

John scowled at him. "Seems we're both losers then."

"Yes, it appears we are." Sherlock straightened. "But make no mistake, I shan't let it happen again."

John continued to glare as he let himself out. "Just remember, Sherlock. I owe you a fall.  _I owe you_."

"I look forward to it," Sherlock smirked as the door clanged shut. Then as soon as the criminal was gone, his face fell, crushed at the loss of the only friendship he'd ever had.


End file.
